The Drowned City
by jrsrr
Summary: Gwen's welcome to the undersea city of Rapture is not anything like she expected. There are genius surgeons who only think about experimentation, businessmen willing to do anything to reach the top and behemoths in diving suits. And her caught up at the centre of the downfall of the hidden city.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey,** I've had this story kicking about in the recesses of my computer hard drive for years, but have never actually had the guts to post it. I have now had the kick up the backside; which came in the form of a vast quantity of wine and a good friend using those infamous words "I dare you."

I also need to note that the concept for this story was actually inspired by Minimalist Rose's 'The Iron Prince' ( s/6262161/1/The-Iron-Prince) I read it and fell in love with the idea of it - please please please go have a read! Soooo...this is a fanfic of a fanfic...fanfic-seption!

And of course. **Legal bit**. I don't own Bioshock, and have gained no profit from this fan fiction.

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 **\- Somewhere off the coast of Reykjavik -**

Gwen attempted to stifle the yawn, as it built unbidden to her lips. She rolled her shoulders trying to forget how every muscle in her body prickled and ached.

"Gwen?" Mary was pulling at the corner of her coat to catch her attention.

"What?" She snapped, snatching the fabric out of the small insistently grabbing hand.

Internally Gwen groaned. She didn't mean to be curt, but she was tired. They had been on the go for days with only a few hours of fitfully interrupted sleep and, in truth, patience could not truly have been described as one of the virtues she possessed in the first place. Luckily Mary brushed off her brusque manner as only a twelve year old was able; with a pair of big blue eyes that claimed butter wouldn't melt...and a half smile twisting her pouting lips that promised the affront would not be so easily forgotten. Knowing Mary as she did, retribution would be taken at its least convenient moment. Evil little – Gwen took a _long_ breath.

"How long now?" Gwen looked sideways to their travelling companions, how on earth was she supposed to know?!

"Not too far." Was her non-committal reply.

Mary huffed and stamped her foot, arms folded. "You said that last time." She pouted, puffing out her cheeks, indifferent to the raised eyebrows and disapproving looks of those that accompanied them.

Gwen considered chastising her cousin for such unladylike behavior, especially in front of company. She risked a quick glance up at their chiding looks, but who was she kidding, if she'd been a few years younger she'd have been a mirror image of the girl, pouting, back hunched, arms folded. They were both exhausted, and so far this journey had _not_ been the fantastical adventure her uncle had promised in his letters.

The first leg of their travel, from Washing D.C to New York by train hadn't been too bad, but by the fiftieth game of Eye Spy, she'd been more than ready to put her _own_ eyes out. Then had come the steamer trip, her stomach twisted even at the mere memory of it. Storms had hounded them all the way across the Atlantic. And when they had finally made port in Reykjavik, there had been a unifying green tinge to each of the passengers as they had staggered down the gang plank with unsteady legs and gratefully back on to solid ground. And the small fishing vessel that had sailed them out from Iceland, she felt a shiver run down her spine, the boats' master a foul mouthed old soak that had stunk of stale ale, whiskey and decomposed fish guts; as he had eyed each of his female passengers lasciviously.

They were standing on the upper level of the great lighthouse they had been brought to, everything looked so out of place she thought; as though the entire structure had been plucked up out of upscale New York and dropped precariously onto a small rock into the freezing Atlantic Ocean. Everything about the place screamed money and influence, even the front door had been gold-plated, with a figure that had reminded her of the statues they presented at the Academy Awards carved into it. The pillars that rose high above their heads looked to be made from bronze and stylized, she expected her Aunt Vivian had been in seventh Heaven when she'd set foot in here. Vivian adored anything that was _'modern'_ and _'art deco'_ especially if it was _'European'_ in design _._

It was the looming visage of Andrew Ryan that had made Gwen pause though, with its scarlet banner flying beneath. "No Gods or Kings. Only Man." Emblazoned in gold lettering. She'd considered the golden features scowling down at her, something about it made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. The banner's wrong, she thought, the bust seemed to be bellowing something different. "No Gods or Kings. Only Me!"

They trooped down the series of bronze staircases into the bowels of the lighthouse. "The hell is _that_ supposed to be?!" One of the smartly suited men demanded indicating the spherical bronze _thing_ with a wave of his suitcase, in a strong southern drawl. One of the women stepped forward, peering at the machine with a critical eye. "Xорошо Бог _[Good God]_! I have seen creations such as this." She whispered reverently, looking back at the rest of us where we hung back. Gwen noticed the American man stiffen at the woman's Russian accent, though the woman herself seemed too enthralled to be aware of his uncomfort. "This," she waved at the bronze and glass, "this is подводная лодка…" She waved her hand around, presumably searching for an English translation. "Can, travel under the water…"

Gwen considered the Russian woman her head tilted "A… submarine?" She offered, the woman's eyes widened as she grinned at Gwen, nodding. "Jesus." The Southern man whistled low.

The second gentleman, whom Gwen had taken to be the Russian woman's husband, an older gentleman everything about him suggested he was an intellectual; from the tweed jacket with leather patches at the elbows to the thickest pair of the glasses Gwen had ever seen, stepped forward to scrutinize the vehicle, squinting through his coke-bottle glasses. "Невероятный _[Incredible]_. I believe it follows a design similar to the deep sea exploration vehicle of Beebe and Barton, something they called a 'Bathysphere', note the spherical shape to protect the explorer from the pressures of the deep sea. вдохновенный _[Inspired]_. I believe," The man stood and looked back towards his fellow travellers. "That the deepest depth recorded in such a vehicle was over 3,000 feet!" The man straightened his glasses and looked towards his wife, sharing and excitable smile with her, offering her an arm as she stepped over the contraption's threshold "Eсть надежда на будущее _[There is hope for the future]_." He told her with a conspiratorial wink.

Mary and Gwen stepped in next, shuffling along the scarlet velvet covered bench seats to allow space for the final pair. The man stepped forward, but his wife hesitated, her fingers clutching at the collar of her mink fur coat, perfect white teeth biting at her perfectly painted red lip. "I'm scared Reg..." Gwen carefully looked away in an attempt to give the couple some privacy, there were tears shimmering at the corners of the poor woman's eyes. Her husband turned to her, gently taking her hand. "Come on Milly," he hushed her with a low voice, wiping away the tear with his thumb. "New start. You and me, eh girl. Fresh slate." The woman, Milly, took a long steadying breath, and nodded, squaring her shoulders she stepped into the submersible.

This 'Bathysphere' contraption was hot and stuffy and cramped with the two other couples squeezed inside it with all their luggage piled on the floor of the vehicle between their feet. And through the great porthole of a window the small group watched the bubbles rise as they sank, the 10 fathom marker rose, Gwen licked her lips nervously, 60 feet below the ocean. Another statue passed them in the murk, his arms upraised as though he were swimming for the surface. 18 fathoms, Gwen sucked in a shaky breath, more than 100 feet down…and then they were in near pitch darkness. Mary's hand seized Gwen's in what felt like a bone crushing grip, Gwen fought the panic, whatever happened her first priority was Mary; _had_ to be Mary.

And then there was light, Gwen blinked, the vice-like grip on her heart of terror ebbed slowly from her. An advertisement she didn't understand flickered on a projector screen that had descended from the ceiling; what were 'plasmids' she wondered? But the image was quickly replaced with an image of Andrew Ryan sitting at a desk, pipe in hand, and the voice of the man himself was piped into the small craft through unseen speakers.

"I am Andrew Ryan and I'm here to ask you a question; is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?" Gwen took a quick glance around at the faces of their traveling companions. The American couple were nodding reverently as the warm tones of the billionaire that rolled over them. The Russians, sat stoically, hand in hand. She eyed the image projected, the assured tones of the charismatic man sent an uncomfortable tingle up the length of her spine. He does like the sound of his own voice, doesn't he?

"I chose something different. I chose…"

The darkness fell again, but this time the panic didn't strike. And then the Bathysphere emerged into the light a collective gasp overtook the small space. "Rapture." A city, a real God's honest _city_ under the sea. Gwen's mouth went dry as her jaw fell open. She couldn't focus on the words as the recording of Ryan continued, she was simply overwhelmed at the towers, the undersea skyscrapers, the glass walkways between them, the luminous schools of fish that darted through the half gloom, the illuminated signs of places and brands that she would come to learn of.

It was magnificent, simply magnificent.

Rapture.

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Russian translations are from Google translate, so sorry for anything if its incorrect. And the "There is hope for the future" is a quote from the 1954 film of 20,000Leagues Under the Sea, and they are the final words of a dying Captain Nemo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Legal bit.** I own nothing, and gain no profit from this work

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 **\- Fontaine Futuristics -**

"All these failed experiments, Doctor Suchong. I am not impressed."

Suchong bit his tongue, hard. He had been able to learn much from these experiments, each new discovery had furthered his research exponentially, each new batch of Little Sisters was more likely to survive the transition process than the last and that was all down to his diligent work; just because his findings could not be twisted to provide a quick financial profit did not mean that they had 'failed'. But his financier was not a man to be trifled with, nor was he a man of patience, he did not find solace in the suggestion of long-term investment, to quibble about the intricacies of such research would simply be a waste of breath and energy.

"Suchong understands." He ground his back teeth together as he bit out the words, voice fighting to stay devoid of emotion. " _Failure_ ," the very word tasted acrid upon his tongue, "is no option."

The man before him chuckled darkly, it was an unnerving sound that carried little mirth with it, while Suchong swallowed back the cold fury in his gut.

"I have been thinking though Doctor..."

Suchong waited the metal tang of blood in his mouth, he'd bitten into his own tongue in his restraint of his impatience.

"Maybe, we might exploit your desire to experiment. Your work could explore a more...mature field."

"Mature field...?"

"There are only so many baby girls that will not be missed, Suchong." The lack of title was noted and grated at the older Asian man.

Suchong considered the proposition, there would of course be some kind of back room underhanded double dealing if such research was to be condoned; and he didn't like that his work was being used as part of some deeper scheme...

But then again... it had already occurred to Suchong that girls of the desirable age were a finite commodity. That the sea slugs had not thrived when they had been implanted into the boys had dropped his prospective subject pool by 50 percent, and the required age parameters that had produced the highest Adam yield had diminished that pool even further... but if he could just find a way... he was Doctor Yi Suchong after all. _The_ greatest mind of this age... and he would be able to observe the reactions of a subject who could recognize the changes within herself, who had not been processed into a small pliant zombie creature, who could articulate the first hand experiences of being a Little Sister. And didn't blather on about angels and other nonsense... yes, he decided, observations of Tanenbaum's charges could only expand his research so far but he might be able to learn much from this proposed experimentation.

"We have found in previous attempts that the maturity diminishes the effectiveness of the Adam recycling... The process would not be _profitable_ in large scale _._ "

" _This_ experiment wouldn't be about Adam recycling, Doctor, consider it a one off."

"Suchong has not explored this line of investigation in previous bonding experiments. Ability to recycle the Adam has always been highest priority."

"Well I'm saying that is not the case in this instance." There was a dark tone to his voice.

Suchong felt his hands curl into fists, he was lucky they were secreted safely deep in the pockets of his lab coat; such visible sign of defiance would most definitely be noted. But he was the scientist. He should be deciding what would further his research. Even if he liked the notion of what was being proposed it irked him to be used like a piece on a chess board.

But this man had a thick wallet. And everything in the fine city of Rapture came with a price tag.

"I have even found you the perfect... _candidate,_ for this particular piece of research."

"I see."

It didn't surprise Suchong, in fact it confirmed his hypothesis that this was part of a deeper tactical maneuver of some kind.

"Oh yes, she should be with you soon. I've even sent a reception committee to meet her."

"Suchong...shall prepare."

* * *

To anyone who really follows the time lines of Bioshock - yeah I know that the first successful bonding of a Big Daddy and Little Sister ended with the death of Suchong...but its Suchong! Who doesn't want to write in the guise of an egotistical genius?! Especially when you compare him with a sane Gilbert Alexander...


	3. Chapter 3

**Usual legal bit.** I own nothing and gain no profit.

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 **\- The Atlantic Express – Olympus Heights Station -**

"Gwen! Look at all the fish!"

Gwen smiled, the entire wall of the undersea railway station was a vast window looking out onto the reef and it took her breath away. Looking beyond where Mary had fogged the glass with her breath she looked out excitedly to the vastness of the ocean, at the schools of brightly coloured fish dancing this way and that and the slow moving shadows of sharks, and there! Was that the tail of a whale! Like her cousin she just wanted to press her nose up against the window, but years of lessons on how to be a _'respectable young woman'_ held her back. It really was an incredible view...

The two girls were so absorbed by the view out of the great window that neither of them noticed as the station emptied, nor did they see the two men eyeing them from a corner cast into shadow.

"Tha' 'er?" One asked his fellow, his voice low, a distinct East London twang to his words, his breath whistling through a gap where he'd lost a tooth. He looked lewdly over at the older of the two girls, poking his tongue through the empty socket in his upper jaw and licking his lips.

The other squinted down at a small black and white photograph, before nodding sharply. "'t's the one."

Gwen was so entranced by the view out of the window she barely recognized that Mary had danced off to look at something else, equally enchanting. She didn't even hear the two men as they advanced on the girls, their flat caps pulled low over their brows, collars of their long oil skin jackets turned up.

What she did hear was Mary's shriek.

She span on her heel. One man had Mary by the wrists, the other was grabbing for her ankles while she kicked out and squirmed.

For just a moment Gwen was paralyzed, her brain unable to comprehend what was happening right before her eyes. It was when Mary screamed again that she was able to shake herself out of her shocked paralysis.

She charged at the man who was snatching to restrain the girl's legs, she hadn't really planned what she was going to do, but she ploughed into him shoulder first, and he fell away, Gwen falling along with him.

Gwen attempted to scramble back up onto her feet, while above her Mary was kicking and spitting and writhing like a wild thing. She heard the man grunt and saw him crumple, clutching at the apex of his legs, she felt herself smile knowing at least one of Mary's frenzied blows had hit a target.

As the man's grip loosened, Mary hit the ground running, her Mary Jane's eating up the ground beneath them. But she skidded to a halt mere feet from the stations exit, torn between abandoning her cousin and the desire to flee for safety.

Gwen shifted to go after her, but was caught short by a vice like grip on her ankle. "Gi' bac' 'ere!" The man she had knocked down growled.

"Run!" She screamed at the girl as more hands grabbed at her, pulling her back, pinning her where she was.

Mary didn't need to be told twice. She ran as though the devil himself were at her heels.

Gwen fought, kicking out blindly at her captors, one of her blows catching the man hard in the face, Gwen felt his nose crunch sickeningly under her foot, he reeled back in pain, blood gushing from his nose. Gwen's stomach clenched when she saw the look he gave her, foul, yellowed teeth bared, blood pumping down over his lips and along the line of his jaw. "Lil' _bitch_!" He growled, voice dangerous. Behind her the second man had seized her wrists twisting them so painfully up her back that she cried out and made tears sting at the corners of her eyes. "Damn hell-cat!" The second man snarled as she continued to writhe, despite the pain.

The man behind her uncapped a hypodermic needle with his teeth, Gwen saw a flash from the glass of the needle, her eyes went wide, a rush of panic making her redouble her fight against the pair. The man swore vehemently as her kicks landed hard repeatedly upon his head and shoulders. "Pu' 'er _down_!" His accomplice reached down jabbing the syringe hard into the layer of muscle in her neck, a scream died on her lips as he drove down the plunger, her limbs went heavy and sluggish, she couldn't quite form coherent thoughts, and she blinked repeatedly trying to combat the sleepiness that had overtaken her. But she was quickly overwhelmed by the lethargy and her world slipped into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Legal bit.** I own nothing and gain no profit.

* * *

 ** _-_** **Somewhere in Rapture -**

Gwen's mind swam in and out of half consciousness, blurring the lines between reality and dream. She was slogging through a quagmire fog thick around her, staggering, falling, she was being sucked down into murky water, the beginnings of a scream cut of when foul tasting liquid flooded her mouth. She gagged, choked, trying to gasp in air. She was underwater, hands reaching for the last vestiges of light and she couldn't work out which way was up.

In front of her the water cleared, she reached out a hand, her fingertips brushing against cold glass, there were people behind the glass, people looking at her, she couldn't make them out properly, the water obscuring her vision. Help me. Her lungs were burning, she couldn't breathe! Help me! For God's sake! Somebody! I'm dying! They were speaking, she could see their mouths moving, muffled voices floated to her from what seemed far away "...She's older than expected..." Please! Silently she begged. Please! "...Shall have to alter the pheromones..." Help… me... Her eyes fluttered closed. "...Doubted survival..."

She was moving. She was lying supine, above her lights were moving the length of her body, she tried to follow the floating orb of brightness with her eyes, but trying to move her head made her dizzy and nauseous. It felt like her veins had been filled with hot lead. Everything burned, all the ways from the tips of her toes right up to the ends of her hair, it was as though her skin had been flayed from her body, every nerve in her felt raw and exposed. She could sense people moving around her, looking down at her. Could feel them touching her, pulling and poking her, _cutting_ her. She tried to move but she couldn't, it was like her limbs were made of lead… No… no, she was restrained, held down, blind panic clouded her vision before her world faded to black.

She was floating again, this time in darkness, her limbs sluggish to respond and heavy. Like she was trying to swim though treacle. She lifted her hand every movement she made as though it was in slow motion, blinking down at her digits, a slow frown creasing her brow. Her skin was glowing. She cocked her head, she couldn't understand, couldn't... Movement caught her eye, she blinked up, she wasn't alone...a hand reaching out to her. She gazed at the hand for a long time, it was a large hand, a man's, his palm upraised like he was waiting... Without thinking about it and with immense slowness she put her own hand in his. The man's fingers wrapped around hers warmly, his thumb rubbing gently over her knuckles. A smile crept across her lips, her eyes lidded low, his skin upon hers sent a tingle though her. She looked up, looking to where his face should be...but there was nothing, only more darkness. But it didn't matter, she felt warm and safe and protected. She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again she was on a train platform. The feeling of calm bliss evaporated, panic made the breath hitch in her lungs. An all-encompassing sense of loss over took her, people were pushing and shoving past her, her eyes flicking between them, looking for someone, she just didn't know who she was searching for. Steam from the train obscuring the faces of those as the passed her. She dodged between the press of bodies, moving forward. Where? Where was...?

"Daddy." It was a sigh of relief, she had found him. He was standing in his uniform, just like the last time she had seen him, he stood apart from the rest of the crowd on the platform, while everyone else was moving he was the only one still. "Daddy!" She was running forward, he was so close, just a little further, just a little... but she was running on the spot, she wasn't gaining any ground. "Daddy! Daddy I'm here!" He was turning away, swinging his heavy kit bag over his shoulder. "Daddy! Come back!" He was walking away, boarding the train. He was leaving her. Again. "Daddy!" She screamed at his receding back. "Daddy!"

She woke with a gasp, her eyes flying wide. She was lying on her back again, tied down, strapped to a cold metal stretcher, the belts pulling tight against her flesh. She twisted and squirmed, fighting at the binds. Above her people loomed over her, their faces cast into shadow by an incredibly bright overhead light. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of something that flashed bright in the hand of one of those who stood over her. Breath caught in her lungs, when she saw the knife. A cloth was brought down over her nose and mouth, the smell of strong alcohol flooded her senses, she flung her head from side to side fighting to shake away the rag. "Just _relax_ Miss Hawthorne." Her eye lids growing heavy from the fumes. "You'll be back on your feet before you can say... _Rapture…_ "


	5. Chapter 5

**\- Fontaine Futuristics – Medical Wing -**

Finally Gwen broke through the surface to consciousness, her memory of her dreams slipping away from her like sand through her fingers, her head was pounding and heavy, her mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton wool and tasted worse than the bottom of a budgie cage, her eyes were all gummed up and her stomach... Urgh her stomach! She felt sick as a dog, and she'd thought the journey across the Atlantic had been bad, it was as though she'd been tossed into a washing machine and then fed through her mother's old mangle. She couldn't think of a coherent way of describing the feeling, it wasn't pain exactly, and discomfort didn't quite do it justice. She was starving hungry and full to bursting all at the same time

All she wanted to do was roll over, ignore the world for another few hours and let herself slip back into a blissful dreamless sleep. Exactly what she would have done if it wasn't for an incessant blipping just by her ear and the light shining down on her was bright enough to disturb her, even with her eyes firmly closed.

She groaned trying to shift herself into a more comfortable position, something tugged uncomfortably at the crook in her arm. Without opening her eyes she tried to pull whatever it was away, it stung as it shifted on her skin. All she wanted to do was sleep! Why couldn't everything just leave her alone so she could...!

"Miss Hawthorn?"

A woman, Gwen couldn't place the voice, one of Aunt's many ladies maids no doubt, and she was loath to open her eyes and actually wake up while she felt this rotten, and this bed was so very comfortable, the sheets deliciously soft and cozy on her skin.

"Miss Hawthorn?"

Urgh, she _was_ persistent wasn't she. Gwen had never been a morning person, and it wasn't as though she had to be anywhere, she hadn't set an alarm or anything...had she? She couldn't remember. But if she couldn't remember it wouldn't have been very important anyway. So why _couldn't_ she just go back to sleep?

"Hmmm." Was the closest to a coherent reply she was capable of. What she was actually screaming silently was buggar off! Not very ladylike, even simply as a thought, but she was willing to admit to the world at large no matter what time it actually was, it was an ungodly time to wake up.

"Doctor! Miss Hawthorn is regaining consciousness!"

There was the hurried click-clack of heels moving away. Gwen sighed, muscles she hadn't realized were clenched relaxing back down into the bed. _Peace_. Now if only she could stop that damned irritating beeping, and she could just let herself sink back...

Wait...Did she say Doctor...?

Much against her most fervent desire, Gwen forced open her eyes which were crusted and gooey from sleep, then squeezed them closed again quickly. A bright light above her was glaring down upon her, blinking away sun spots she opened up her eyes again, more slowly this time.

It was a big room, metal framed beds lined the walls; all save the one she lay in empty. The bed linens pristine, glowing white perfectly made without a single crease in them, a tall IV stand accompanied each bed. At the far end of the room a dark wooden desk looked to serve as a nurse's station. There were no windows in the room, but the overhead lights were easily enough to display every gleaming surface all of which had been polished with bleach judging by the smell.

She licked her dry and cracked lips. Hospital, she was in a hospital, okay, that was… she could wrap her brain around that.

She looked to her side, the rhythmical blipping emanated from a metal box, a red line running horizontally across the screen jumped into spikes that correlated with the pace of her heart, which sped up as she watched it's progress across the small screen, and above that, an IV bag unhurriedly dripped its contents down a clear tube down to a needle into the crook of her elbow and through to her veins. She licked her lips, studying the bag, it didn't have the brown tinge of blood, and... It might just have been the bright lighting...or maybe it was because she'd only just woken from a deep sleep... but it looked like it had a slight reddish glow to it...

"Ah, Miss Hawthorn."

Gwen swung her gaze around to the doorway into the ward.

An Asian man, his glasses round and too small for his face, wearing a white coat walked towards her, arms open as though he might have embraced her. A woman, in an overly starched, boiled in the wash until germs simply refused to adhere to it, nurses uniform trailed him at a respectful distance, she reminded Gwen of some of her most dreaded school matrons, her face all pinched up as though some foul stench was forever under her nose and her back so straight she might have a broom handle strapped to her spine, and if Gwen's thoughts had turned unkind she might have considered the broom handle inserted somewhere unpleasant...

Gwen looked between the nurse and doctor and back again.

"What-" She licked her lips, trying to work out which of the vast quantity of questions whizzing through her brain she needed answers to first. "How did I get here?" Her voice sounded rough and scratchy as though she hadn't used it in a long time.

The doctor flapped a careless hand at her, her question a mere triviality to him, peering down at her as though she were an incredibly interesting specimen to be studied. He checked the path of the red line on the heart monitor. He squinted into her eyes with a pen light. And generally poked and prodded her, checking the reflexes in her knees with a small rubber hammer he withdrew from a pocket of his lab coat. He massaged at her stomach with cold fingers, periodically asking if she felt any pain, which she did not.

"You were attacked." Gwen's attention snapped across to the nurse quickly, she tried to ignore the movement and fussing of the doctor as he shifted around her muttering to himself and making notes on a clipboard. The nurse's voice was as pinched as her face. "Addicts I wouldn't doubt." Her lip curled with distaste, she did sound _quite_ the busy body.

"Attacked...?" Was that what had happened? Her head was all foggy, and it hurt to think. "Mary!" She gasped, Mary would have been with her – where was she now? _What had happened?!_ "Mary – is she safe?" She gasped out, full of worry, she didn't think she could bare it if something had happened to the girl.

The nurse hushed her with a hand. "Your cousin is safe."

"Yes, yes all is wonderful." The doctor said dismissively, batting aside Gwen's inconvenient worries. "Suchong work great success, yes?" Looking expectantly down at the young woman in the bed before him.

Gwen just blinked up at him stunned, unable to work out what an appropriate response might be.

"A magnificent success, Doctor Suchong. Magnificent." The nurse told him reverently across the bed, Gwen looking between them mutely. Questions still unanswered, but this doctor seemed little inclined to answer a single one of them – he was only interested in how wonderful he was apparently.

"Suchong must observe interaction of subjects."

Gwen looked back to the nurse, hoping for some kind of translation from egotistical Doctor speak into regular human language.

"Of course, I shall prepare her immediately, Doctor Suchong."

Suchong grinned down at Gwen with more teeth than any human mouth had right to possess, it sent a cold shiver down her spine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Legal bit.** I own nothing, and gain no profit.

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Outside Holding Room -**

Gwen stood before the closed air lock door, she was licking her lips. The white dress she wore didn't fit well, and looked like it had been designed for girl much younger than her, she attempted to tug down the baby pink frilly edge of the skirt that fell uncomfortably high on her otherwise bare thighs.

The nurse had told her what had happened, or at least, some of it. Gwen, though, wasn't sure whether she actually believed all of it. The fact that she couldn't remember the actual attack wasn't in her favor.

She was told that she'd been in a coma for over a week. Her uncle, having demanded the highest quality of care available for his beloved niece, had brought her to this private hospital. Doctor Suchong being the resident genius surgeon, his genius had been reaffirmed...several times. Each time the nurse mentioned said 'marvellous' Doctor her voice softened from its default clipped sharp tone to something gooey and ardent. Apparently he had performed some kind of incredible life saving experimental surgery upon her.

Lifesaving surgery she had required because of such a horrific attack; that hadn't left a scratch or scrape anywhere on her body, not even a bruise, she'd checked. In fact the only mark on her was where the intravenous drip had been in her arm, which was already healing over. It made her uncomfortable and suspicious, but without any memory, or proof it was their word against hers.

And, of course, all of this specialist care came at a high price. Her uncle had accepted, she was told, on her behalf, that she would be inducted into a scientific study called the 'Protector Programme' in lieu of the hefty price tag, not because he _couldn't_ pay, Charles Humble was one of the finest investors in , but Charles Humble was a well-known skinflint. It galled Gwen, and it irritated her how easily her beloved Uncle, who had wanted her to be treated at the best hospital by the _best_ doctor, had offered her up as some type of sacrifice. And no one had actually explained so far what her part in this ' _Programme_ ' might entail...

Gwen looked sideways, nervously eyeing the wall again, she didn't even want to consider some of the explanations her over active imagination had conjured up. In the wall beside her, a series of deep gouges had been cut into the stone work. A shiver ran the length of her spine as she traced the deep grooves with her fingers. Someone really hadn't wanted to go through this door, someone strong enough to dig their fingers deep into concrete, someone with a hand much larger than her own.

Gwen wrung her hands together, feeling very small and awfully alone. They wouldn't have saved her life to merely send her death... right? That would be illogical. And the doctor hadn't struck her as an illogical man, he had seemed the type that would revel in research and statistics... But then what did she really know of this Doctor Suchong? That his glasses were too small to actually have very much purpose and that his nurse was lovesick for him. She squeezed her eyes closed. Oh God, just what her Uncle had set in motion for her.

The light above the doorway flickered for a moment, then turned a steady green, and the door before her slid open with a pressurized hiss. Gwen licked her lips, deliberately averting her gaze from the scratches, took hesitant steadying breath and stepped forward into the darkness of the room before her. There wasn't anywhere else for her _to_ go.

Behind her the door hissed closed, and locked with a thunk.

"Unto the breach, dear friends." She whispered into the encompassing silence, voice quavering and little more than a breath. Probably the closest thing to a prayer she would ever utter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Legal bit.** I own nothing and have gained no profit from my writing.

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Observation Room -**

Suchong watched the girl as she cautiously tiptoed into the holding room, for her, entering from the brightly lit corridor, the room would have been pitch black and she kept close to the doorway while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He watched, hungrily awaiting the moment that each subject became aware of the other.

Behind him Nurse Sylvia slipped into the room, leading their demanding, ill-tempered financier into the observation room.

"That the girl?" Suchong noted the snarl in the man's deep Bronx accent. "Not the one I had in mind."

"Girl that goons bring to Suchong." Suchong snapped, annoyed. "Suchong perform operation. Girl survive Little Sister procedure. This is final bonding between Big Daddy and Little Sister– Suchong must observe and record outcomes." He wanted to make careful note of the interaction of the subjects. He'd had to manipulate his Lot 255 serum to account for the girl's age – it had been a much more refined batch and he had been informed, in no small terms, that it would not be 'cost effective' to reproduce. This would be his one and only opportunity to record any and all results.

"So who is this broad?"

Suchong glared at the glass in front of him, how he was meant to concentrate with these distractions. Sylvia could deal with these trivialities. He waved off handily to the nurse to get on with it.

"A new arrival to Rapture, Mr. Fontaine." Nurse Sylvia told him referring to the girl's notes. "One Miss Gwendolyn Anastasia Hawthorn, twenty years old. Ward of her Aunt and Uncle, Vivian and Charles Humble."

Fontaine raised an eyebrow, maybe the idiot splicers he'd paid to snatch Mary Humble hadn't failed him as completely as he had believed; too bad they'd already been disposed of. He might just still be able to spin this to his advantage.

The nurse continued reeling off medical data, surprisingly Fontaine wasn't interested in the girl's average white blood cell count, her rhesus status, or how her brain had reacted to multiple layers of non-opiate based anesthetic.

"What's she been told about all this?"

The nurse stuttered to a halt in her rambling of the medical jargon that was useless to Fontaine, pursing her lips before composing herself.

"A splicer attack." She pressed her clip board against her bosom. "Life saving surgical procedures."

"Usual bullshit then."

The nurse pulled a face as though she'd just gotten a whiff of dogs mess at his use of profanity. "Real enough to be believed." She re-iterated sniffily.

"And what if she dies here?" Fontaine nodded at the window into the holding room.

"She will not." Suchong snapped vehemently over his shoulder at the man, keeping his eyes on the glass. "Bonding shall be _success_." His back teeth grinding audibly together.

Fontaine raised an eye brow at the nurse.

"Subdural haematoma," Fontaine glared at the woman silently. "Brain bleed," She translated, quickly understanding the gist of his glaring irritation. "Consequences of her traumatic brain injury." She said quietly with a shrug, avoiding looking at Suchong. "Never woke from the coma."

"Sounds plausible enough." Fontaine turned back to the glass, arms folded, to watch events unfold, a dark smile twisting at the corner of his lips. This was going to be _interesting_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Legal bit.** Usual stuff, own nothing blah blah blah. And I am impoverished because I gain no profit from fan fiction.

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Holding Room -**

Gwen squinted into the dark room. From what she could see it was a mirror image of the hospital ward she had awoken in, though all the beds, from what she could discern through the darkness, had been shoved up against the far wall, piled atop each other haphazardly. Somewhere in the darkness a tap dripped.

She scrunched up her toes, beneath her bare feet the tiles were cracked and grimy. She winced at the feel of the slight tackiness underfoot.

She licked her lips nervously, low on the walls, in the dimness, she could just make out childish drawings, of houses, families and what looked like angels. She knelt to take a closer look at one, tracing the outline of a little girl drawn in crayon with a delicate finger, her hair in braids her face sad, streaks of blue running down from her eyes as tears. Gwen didn't like it in here. It felt like fear and pain had saturated itself into the very walls. Her glance caught the crayon art work again. And children had been in here. She gritted her teeth, standing, a shiver running the length of her spine, children that had been terrified.

She crept further into the darkened room, picking her way carefully over debris of broken medical equipment scattered across the ground, much of it smashed to pieces.

So? What was she supposed to do in here? All that she could identify looming out of the darkness looked to be rubbish, which for one reason or other hadn't been thrown away. Cracked vials tossed aside, suitcases burst open spilling over with long forgotten, or discarded possessions. Everything looked to be caked in dust and dirt, discarded a very long time ago.

What was that? There...in the corner... She squinted trying to pick out the shape of the shadow from the surrounding darkness. It looked larger than anything else she'd found in this horrible room. She couldn't think with a sane head in the darkness, it was as though she was a little girl again hiding under the covers with a torch, scared of the dark and the ghoulies and goblins that liked to lurk there.

There was a low moan, it reverberated all the way through her. Every muscle in her body tensing. But – but that didn't sound like any animal she knew of. Think like an adult, she told herself, you're not a baby, you've lived through the blitz girl, and you're an _adult_. It can't be anything bad... They would have told her, warned her if she might have been in danger... Wouldn't they... Her stomach flip-flopped. She couldn't stop herself taking a hesitant step backwards, and she stiffened as her foot brushed against something icy cold, the hairs on the back of her neck raised.

The glass beaker she had knocked her foot against rolled an impressive distance, the sound of cracked glass against tile deafening in the otherwise silent room.

She bit her lip in the long moment of nothingness. Holding her breath. Maybe whatever it was hadn't heard it, maybe she was safe, maybe... Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes from the effort of not even blinking. Her toes scrunched against the floor tiles.

A hellish red light flared up in the far corner of the room, she couldn't move, couldn't speak, and couldn't think. Primal fear flooded her veins. She wanted to run. She _needed_ to run. She had to escape. But she was rooted to the spot. It moved – it stood - it took a heavy stomping step towards her. Oh God, she was looking death in the face. And he wore a diving suit.

It shrieked. A horrific inhuman sound. And charged at her, its speed at odds with its great bulk. Gwen squeezed her eyes tight shut, as the monster seized her in a hand the size of a dustbin lid, praying her impending death would be quick and as painless as possible. The thing carried her at incredible pace across the room.

The great brute slammed her hard against the far wall, knocking all the air from her lungs, her head slamming backwards against the concrete wall and stars flashing and sparking behind her eyelids, her arms pinned tight against her sides. In his grip she was as vulnerable as a babe in arms. Whatever this thing was, it could snap her as simply as it would be to break a dry twig.

Seconds ticked past like hours, Gwen unable to stop her bottom lip from trembling. Oh God oh God oh God. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pressure on her arms lessened.

She could barely suck in breath and didn't _dare_ open her eyes. Oh God oh God oh God... I don't want to die like this.

Panic tingled through her as she felt a touch on her cheek, every muscle in her body screaming at her to run, to flee, to get back through the pressurized door and never look back. The great canvas gloved fingertip drew a line down from the apex of her cheek bone to her jaw line, and if she had been in any other setting she might even have described the touch as tender – and that almost terrified her more than the bestial violence had.

Tentatively, ever so slowly, Gwen opened her eyes. The red light had been replaced by a green one. The helmet was so close to her face her breath was sending up clouds across the glass window, whatever was behind that mask, it was incredibly focused upon her, taking in everything about her.

 ** _Mine._**

Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might simply leap from her chest. The voice had just appeared in her head, completely by-passing her ears and going directly into her brain. And she knew, just knew, that it was the hulking monstrosity before her that had said it.

"Please..." Her voice was little more than a breathy whisper, she couldn't manage any more. "Please let me go..."

To her surprise the grip actually released her completely. Until the only part of him unwavering was the butterfly light brush of the gloved finger over her cheek.


	9. Chapter 9

**Legal.** Own nothing, no profit.

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Observation Room -**

Suchong's pen skipped across the paper as he took notes frantically, standing so close to the glass before him that he kept having to swipe away the fog of his breath with the cuff of his lab coat.

"Fascinating!" The Korean man's eyes were wide as saucers behind his glasses and his grin wouldn't be out of place on a Cheshire cat as he looked to his fellows in the Observation Room. "Such physical contact is unprecedented!" He exclaimed.

Fontaine watched the pair, his arms folded across his wide chest, his face dark and unreadable. Beside him the nurse shook her head in awe. "Phenomenal Doctor." She whispered reverently.

"Subject Psi, touches Little Sister as – as..." Suchong shook his head trying to find the right word.

"It's caressing her." Fontaine said, voice low, he hadn't taken his eyes off the two. Interesting. Inwardly he felt the beginnings of a plan, this might actually work better in his favor than he had previously considered...

Suchong blinked at the man, before looking back at the two in the adjoining room. "Caress." He rolled the word around his mouth as though it were a fine wine. "Yes." He nodded sharply, accepting of the term, scribbling it down upon his clipboard. "Incredible!" He breathed "What Suchong could _do_ with this..."

"Release them." Fontaine told him, eyes still glued to the pair.

Suchong's pen skittered across the page to a standstill, he stared up at the shrewd man in his smart suit. "B-but what could be learned...! Suchong has experiments that..."

Fontaine looked sideways at the shorter man, his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Doctor," He said the word carefully, danger in his tone. "Real world conditions are infinitely different to Laboratory ones. Consider the potential."

Fontaine felt fury twist in his gut, he shouldn't have had to ' _sell_ ' his orders to those on his pay roll. Maybe it would be prudent to bring another in on his little... operation, one who wouldn't question the motives of the man with the cash. He'd heard good things about that Gilbert Alexander fellow.

Suchong looked back to his pair of test subjects, considering. Real world parameters. It was an intoxicating prospect. Oh what he might be able to discover. Such possibilities! A smile spread across his face as the very idea grew and developed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Legal.** Own nothing, no profit.

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Holding Room -**

Gwen stayed as still as she could. His finger traced the line of her jaw and down to follow the trail of her jugular artery under the skin of her neck. She could feel her heart beat flutter like a trapped bird darting within its cage, and right at that moment she felt as vulnerable as a caged bird.

 ** _You are scared. Of what?_**

The voice inside her head was unnerving, it made her want to look around for the speaker. "You." She told him quietly, praying she didn't pique the thing's ire – she wasn't sure she'd be able to survive being slammed against any more walls.

Almost imperceptibly he leaned closer into her. She whimpered, tears dripping unbidden down her cheeks and falling to her collar. "Please...I don't want to die." The helmet pulled away sharply, as though her very words had stung him, his fingers falling away from her face.

 ** _I shall never harm you._**

He told her, like he was trying to convince her of the fact, as though her fear actually pained him.

 ** _I protect you. You are mine._**

He bent his knees a little, coming down to her level, his fingers touching the tip of her chin softly, lifting her face to meet the glass window that was, apparently, his. He said the words slowly, gently, stressing them as though he were trying to impress their meaning upon her.

Gwen's knees buckled and she slithered down, her back pressed against the cold wall. Her breath coming in hiccupping gasps. She was shaking, this was wrong, all of it, this couldn't be real. There wasn't some monster man in a deep sea diving suit in front of her, that would be...fanciful, unbelievable, a nightmare, a hallucination... madness.

She knew about mad people, knew what happened to them. Long ago, when she'd been a little girl one of the women from her village had been _mad_ , or that's what the woman's husband had said, Gwen had thought it had more to do with the fluttering eyelashes and secret looks and smiles that were directed to men that weren't her husband. He had sent her away though, to be cured, he'd said. And when she'd returned...she'd been different, she was forever smiling dreamily, her eyes unfocused and glazed staring at nothing in particular, her reactions dull and slow to respond as she simply sat and watched the world pass her by, drool dribbling down from the corner of her mouth. The very thought that she had gone mad almost terrified Gwen more than the great beast before her.

 ** _I am sorry. I protect you._**

She tried to swallow down her rising panic, ineffectively. "You keep saying that!" She spat with tearful hysteric laughter that she just couldn't bite back. "And what do you need to protect me _from_?! You!" Fear made her voice squeak.

The creature flung his metal head back and gave out a grief-stricken roar that reverberated through her. Making the teeth in her skull rattle.

 ** _Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry_**

Gwen clapped her hands over her ears, curling up into a ball on the tiled floor. The word reverberated around her skull like a never ending echo. Oh God it hurt. It physically hurt. She opened her mouth in a silent scream. Oh God she was going to drown in this feeling of woe and failure.

 ** _Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry_**

It felt like ivy had wrapped around her chest, tightening, crushing her, her throat had closed up, her lungs were burning begging for air but she just couldn't draw breath. Her flesh burned as though it was being ripped away from her bones, skinned alive.

 ** _Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry_**

She gritted her teeth, guilt and sorrow that was not her own tasting vile in her mouth, making her gag and retch.

She dry heaved at the pain, choking and gasping tears streaming down her face, she shuffled to her feet, teeth clamped together fighting back against the searing agony that had taken her body over. With a quaking hand, fingers feeling as though they had been snapped backwards past breaking point, she brushed the cold brass of the helmet.

"I-It's..." She was fighting for oxygen. She was going to pass out any second, her vision blurring. "It's okay."

 ** _I am sorry._**

It felt as though a plug had been pulled, her knees wanted to buckle beneath her, but she steadied herself against the wall, she gasped in lungfuls of air, her heart free of its crushing weight, all the panic, pain and sadness spiraling away out of her body. She could breathe, she was alive.

This-this thing. This man. He projected words into her brain, she felt his emotions as physical pain. Oh God, what had happened to her? What was this thing?!

Maybe she had gone mad.

She shushed him gently, trying to hide her fear. With as much care as someone wearing a diving helmet could achieve he relaxed into her touch.

She had definitely gone mad. She was going to be killed, any second, by this monstrous thing and she was comforting it – him- it.

 ** _Mine._**

He purred inside her head, nuzzling gently against her hand like a contented cat. She licked her lips, her brow furrowed, she had to battle the desire to snatch her hand away from the metal. What was she supposed to do now? She considered her life leading up to this point; finishing schools for young ladies were all well and good but she couldn't ever remember a lesson that explained how best to conduct yourself with a terrifying behemoth in a diving suit.

"Gw-Gwendolyn." She said, her voice quiet and unsure, it was all she could think to do. "My name's- my name's Gwendolyn." Polite, be polite, she could be polite, she was a 'young lady', she had been able to take afternoon tea with some of the most vulgar American business-men she'd ever met, this should be a doddle compared to the man who had kept trying to walk his fingers over her knee and up her thigh.

 ** _Gwendolyn_**.

He tested the name, sounding out the syllables.

 ** _Gwen-do-lyn._**

He lifted his head till Gwen was face to oval glass porthole with him. She swallowed back her terror and didn't look away.

 ** _My Gwendolyn._**

He sounded so happy, so blissful, so adoring. She could feel the warmth of a smile in his voice and after the suffocating feeling of his guilt she felt so light. Her pupils dilated, the hair on the back of her neck raising, she felt heady like she'd had a few too many glasses of champagne. The corners of her lips began to lift, a girlish giggle bubbling up in her throat. Happiness, the thought floated to her dreamily from a long way away, this is what his happiness feels like.

Across from them Gwen heard the hydraulic hiss of the airlock door. And the moment and it's feeling of bliss was lost, Gwen blinked away the sensations. The nurse with the pinched face stood in the door way. Gwen dropped her out reached hand down to her side, a flush rising to her cheeks as she considered how they must look. And for a fleeting moment she hated the nurse for interrupting them, for taking them unawares in such an intimate position.

"Subject Psi, Miss Hawthorn." The nurse acknowledged them. Gwen felt as though a bucket of ice water had been tipped over her, she remembered the situation she was currently in, standing next to some kind of monster man, and the desire to flee struck her anew.

Gwen licked her lips, stealing a sideways glance at the metal monstrosity beside her, Subject Psi. He didn't even have a proper name, what _was_ this Subject Psi?

"Come along, we're ready to prepare you for your discharge." The nurse swiveled on her heel and walked away, without looking to check that she was followed.

Hurriedly Gwen squeezed out from between the creature – Subject Psi, she corrected herself – and the wall he had pinned her against. She scurried to the doorway, her arms crossing in front of her at the feeling of the watchful eyes of Subject Psi glued to her retreating back. It sent a shiver down her spine, and her breath hitch.

Her stomach did a double back flip at the sound of the lumbering pound of _very_ heavy footfalls behind her. Please don't follow me, please don't follow me, please don't follow me, she prayed silently. Do not run, she told herself firmly, prey runs; if you run, you become prey. Prey gets chased down and caught and eaten. Prey is not something I want to be. I do _not_ want to be hunted down like some gazelle in the sight line of a hungry lion. Walk. Walk _with purpose_. Head held high. Don't falter. Don't look back. Oh God, please don't follow me!

Apparently today was a day when her prayers were not going to be answered.

Subject Psi made the floor shudder with the power of his footsteps as he trailed in the girl's wake.


	11. Chapter 11

**Legal.** I own nothing and gain no profit.

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Medical Wing -**

"Your uncle has been notified to come collect you." The nurse commented as she smoothed down the newly applied bed linen to the hospital bed that Gwen had awoken in. A curtain, equally as white as the rest of the hospital linins, now hung beside it. The nurse indicated she should go behind it where Gwen found a fresh set of clothes. And after a quick glance to check how opaque the hanging sheet actually was, she set about putting them on.

Gwen fastened the last few buttons on the pastel green cardigan the nurse had provided her, and smoothed her hands over her hips and down the dark pencil skirt, her legs feeling bare without stockings, but that couldn't be helped. Her own clothes, it seemed, had been so soiled when she'd been brought to the hospital they had been fed to the incinerator. It was sad, she'd liked those shoes.

"So soon?" She laid out the girlish night gown she'd been wearing on the bed, folding it neatly.

The nurse looked up at her through narrowed eyes, apparently displeased she was being questioned upon the issue, Gwen licked her lips. "Yes." The nurse went back to her task of banishing imagined specks of dirt off the pristine white bed sheets.

"And what-what about..." Gwen sent a pointed glance sideways to the far corner of the ward, where the mountainous metal man stood sentinel.

"To be discharged with you." The older woman said simply.

"W-with-?!" Gwen stopped herself, biting down on her bottom lip, hating the sound of the tremor in her own voice.

She looked across at him from the corner of her eye, at Subject Psi. He was almost more monstrous out here in the bright overhead light than he had been in the dark shadows. He looked human enough... if you were half blind and at least three quarters insane. He was taller than any man she'd ever seen, he'd had to duck though the high doorway into the hospital ward even. And two good sized men could probably stand in front of him and his wide shoulders would still overhang them both. Not exactly inconspicuous to say the least. And then there was that eerie yellow glow that shone through the helmet, in place of a face behind the glass...

"Come." The nurse snapped, breaking Gwen out of her thoughts. "Your Uncle will be waiting." The nurse touched Gwen's shoulder, to lead her from the room.

The growl surprised them both, the light behind the glass an evil red. The nurse flinched away from the girl, as though the very light had burned her. He advanced towards them, his step slow and heavy, danger and threat exuding from every careful action.

 ** _Mine. My Gwendolyn._** **_Stay away._**

The nurse backed away a step, before she remembered who, and where she was and stood her ground. Psi kept moving, till he towered over the woman. She kept her head high, eyes watering with the effort of not blinking. Her lips, Gwen wouldn't have thought it possible, even more tightly pinched together. Gwen held her breath.

Subject Psi growled low.

"Psi...?" It took a moment for Gwen to work out that it was actually her own voice that had said the word. "Psi, it's okay." Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. But something subtle changed in the stance of the giant, a slight release in tension.

"Well then." The nurse's voice trembled, very slightly. She took a long steadying breath, then turned toward the girl, as though nothing had happened. "Your Uncle will be waiting."


	12. Chapter 12

**Legal.** I own nothing, and gain no profit.

 **-Fontaine Futuristics – Main Lobby -**

Gwen trailed in the nurse's wake and Subject Psi stomped his way after her, in some skewed imitation of a conga line through the winding corridors of the building. Gwen watched the people they passed from the corner of her eye, clip boards were clutched close to chests, conversations sputtered into silence. Eyes bulging from their sockets as the towering creature advanced upon where they stood in stunned horror. She tried to feel guilty when her lips twitched upwards as they shrank away from the lumbering behemoth, she wasn't succeeding though. There was something about the type of people who wore white coats, they had an air of superiority about them, and to watch that stripped away… Gwen bit her treacherous upturned lip.

"Here." The nurse stepped aside and Gwen peered passed her.

"Uncle Charles!" She felt like she was a child again as she skipped down the carpeted stairs. Safe! She was safe, he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. All worries and fears forgotten, she skirting the golden globe feature that dominated the lobby, weaving between the people moving through the massive entrance hall and into the open arms of her Uncle. He was here, she was safe-

Behind her a roar made the hair on the back her neck prickle and the breath catch in her lungs. She spun on the spot, instantly realizing her mistake. She raised her arms, trying to show that she was defending him, but oblivious to her attempts, Charles dragged her behind him, putting himself between her and the perceived threat.

Psi seized Charles by the coat front, lifting him easily more than a foot off the ground. All eyes in the crowded entrance hall upon them.

"Stop!" She screamed at the metal monster. Psi didn't look down at her, but the light in his helmet flickered in indecision.

 ** _Gwendolyn is mine._**

"Put. Him. Down." She bit out the words through gritted teeth. "If you hurt him I will _not_ forgive you."

You could have heard a pin drop in the elongated second, before Psi gently, inch by inch, lowered the man till his dangling feet touched the ground. All eyes watched, with bated breath, as Charles stumbled from the loosening grip. Gwen moved to steady him, but the low rumbling growl that emanated from the mountainous man made her Uncle flinch away from her touch.


	13. Chapter 13

**Legal.** I own nothing, and gain no profit.

 **\- Athena's Glory – Humble Residence -**

Gwen sat on her bed, her head was hung and she stared at the carpet without really seeing it, her blonde hair hanging like a curtain, shielding her from the sight of the rest of the room. So far, having an over protective guard monster wasn't exactly going as well as she could have imagined it might have.

After the incident in the lobby, Charles had yelled at the nurse, the receptionist, anyone who'd so much as falter in their stride to ogle at the mad man shouting and gesticulating wildly at the metal monster became a target for his venom. "Don't you people know who I am?! What kind of business are you running here?!" Gwen had just tried to let it wash over her head, wishing she was anywhere but in that entrance hall at that moment, as she shrank into herself.

Finally Charles's bluster had run out of air, and he relented, taking Gwen back to her new home, _with_ her new friend. He muttered darkly all the way. With the presence of Subject Psi they'd had an entire rail carriage all to themselves, at every rail stop on their way any unwary would be traveler who moved to step across the threshold of the train doorway froze at the sight of the hulking monstrosity, backpedaled and fled for the safety of another carriage as fast as their legs could carry them. "They'll regret this. I'll make them play." Though Gwen wasn't entirely sure who it was Charles was swearing his dark revenge upon.

Psi too was chatting incessantly in her head, and with his ability to project his words directly inside her skull even when she hung her head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on the ke-shoosh ke-shoosh sound of blood in her ears, her brow furrowed from the effort, she just couldn't block his voice out. He was confused, he didn't understand why she was angry at him. He had done what he was meant to do. He had protected her. But she stayed quiet, not looking at anyone or anything, hating the feeling of tears stinging at the backs of her eyes – this was all her fault.

And even when they had reached the new home in Olympus Heights, the penthouse apartment that Charles had raved of in his letters. That couldn't have gone more badly wrong if she had tried.

Aunt Vivian had tottered out on her far too high to physically walk stiletto heels, smiling and calling cooing greetings before they'd even made it in through the front door. "Gwenny! Darling! You're hom-" Her voice petered out when she caught sight of Psi, as he stooped to follow her into the apartment. The smile froze on the woman's face, and when Psi stood up to his full height, the smile slipped into a grimace letting out a high keening sound. "Viv." Charles voice was quiet, gentle, like he was trying a coax a skittish animal. But it was enough to knock Vivian out of her terror stricken stare. And she screamed. And screamed. And didn't stop screaming until Gwen, followed by her large shadow, had retreated from the apartment.

Gwen had sat, slumped against the wall. It wouldn't have looked very lady like from anyone else's point of view, her school mistresses would have been scandalized to see her in such a position. But then, none of her school mistresses had ever prepared her for what to do when you had a giant metal monster as a chaperone.

Charles had come to get her, Vivian, he'd told her, had gone to bed with a "headache", yeah, Gwen had thought bitterly, and, with hindsight, unkindly, she'd have taken at least two full bottles of vodka to accompany her to bed.

Her Uncle had showed her to a room, hidden away in the bowels of the penthouse, though a maze of small corridors. She'd watched sadly as the decoration had diminished as they made their way through the corridors, they're hiding us away in the servants' quarters she realized sadly, out of sight, out of mind.

Charles had shown her into the small room, pressing himself back against the wall as Psi followed them into the room, trying to get the most distance between the two. "We-we'll have to discuss... living arrangements..." Charles swallowed, looking Psi up and down.

"Psi won't leave me." Gwen told him will dead pan certainty.

"Well-well..." Charles didn't know how to process her words. "We'll have to-to discuss..." He said again, as though he hadn't heard her. "You understand..." Yes. Yes she understood...he didn't merely mean that it wasn't _proper_ for a young lady to share a room with a, Gwen had cast a glance across at Psi, man shaped behemoth. Charles fled the room as fast as his legs could take him, without actually running.

Yes. Today could have gone much better.

She didn't realize she'd been crying until, with infinite care, Psi lifted her chin and rubbed away their trails down her cheeks with his thumb.

 ** _You are sad._**

Gwen lifted her gaze to look up at the man.

 ** _Have I not protected well enough?_**

"It's... it's complicated." She said finally.

 ** _Please explain._**

He sounded so innocent, she thought, like a child, willing to do anything just so she wouldn't be sad.

 ** _If you explain, it will not be complicated._**

How could she be angry at him? All he wanted was for her to be happy, safe. But she could still remember the feel of the suffocating crush of his anguish earlier, if she explained it to him, he'd feel bad again and through osmosis or psychic link or whatever it was, she'd be at the mercy of those emotions once again.

She swallowed, searching feebly for a way to distract him. "Do you ever take your helmet off?" She wasn't sure which darned nook of her brain the question had come from, but it was certainly a break away from talking about herself.

Psi watched her face closely for a moment, before leaning back, seemingly considering her question.

 ** _There is no need._**

"What about eating? Sleeping?"

 ** _I have no need of eating or sleeping._**

"But...but you'd die. Everything needs food. And people go mad from sleep deprivation..."

 ** _I have no need of food or sleep._**

Gwen let out a long breath. What _was_ this thing, that didn't eat, didn't sleep, that didn't talk (at least it didn't talk in the traditional form of talking), that in fact, only seem to exist to protect. She'd heard whispers on the surface, about the experiments during the war, of Soviet super soldiers, or German monster creatures that lived only to kill. And then to come here to Rapture, where science was so much more advanced... where those super secret super soldiers were walking the streets!

"So _can_ you take off your helmet?" In other circumstances she might have chastised herself, biting her tongue, hating how much like a petulant child she sounded. But she'd piqued her own innate curiosity.

 ** _There is no need._**

"You've never tried?"

 ** _No._**

"Can we try?" Forget petulant, she was being down right impudent.

Psi watched Gwen silently, bathing her in that unusual green light.

"Can-?"

 ** _The man was angry at you, because of me._**

Gwen's mouth opened and shut like that of a dying fish, very lady like, she thought without meaning it.

 ** _That was why you were sad._**

She had to concede, he was right on the money. He was more astute than she had given him credence.

She licked her lips, gaze sliding back down to the design in the carpet. She nodded, bracing herself for the impending tidal wave of emotion to engulf her.

It didn't come.

He was just standing there, looking down at her, she wished she could read the emotion on his face, the helmet didn't betray anything, and as for the glow _emanating_ from the helmet, well red, yellow and green, they weren't exactly complicated – angry, neutral and happy.

 ** _You could have told me. You can tell me anything._**

She looked up into that glass, wondering again about what lay beneath the metal. Slowly, only half conscious of her actions. She stood, reaching to the brass that encased him, standing on her tip toes, shading her eyes from the light she tried to peak in through the glass at him. The light obscured what she could see... but there was a shadow of something in there. Not as empty headed as he might appear then. The faint shadow of a smile crossed her lips.


	14. Chapter 14

**Legal.** I own nothing and gain no profits.

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Dr. Suchong's Office -**

Dr. Suchong watched the girl on the television screen smile. "Phenomenal." He breathed, leaning back from the screen. He'd not scrutinized and evaluated a Big Daddy, Little Sister relationship in such detail before. Maybe because his usual Little Sister subjects where too young to recognize the divergence from the norm of their own existence, or the conditioning they went through, or maybe they disassociated themselves from reality – all that talk of angels. More study would have to be done.

And that one sided conversation the girl carried with Subject Psi, or more precisely, the way she carried such conversation as though it _wasn't merely_ one sided. Subject Psi had not 'said' anything to the girl – at least nothing the microphone on the helmet camera had been able to pick up. He'd never considered that Big Daddies were able to communicate with their charges, at least no more that the whale-like calls. Such a discovery in itself might re-affirm Fontaine's belief in the Protector Programme, and in Suchong himself.

The doctor looked down at the pages of notes scrawled in his spidery handwriting. "Military Application" Had been underscored multiple times. Silent communication between a commander and his subordinates, no enemy listening in on secret operational plans. Or Fontaine might more acutely recognize the possibilities within the business sector, corporate espionage was always a pressing issue in the city under the sea.

He flicked forwards and backwards through the notes he had taken, before his eye was caught by a small comment low on a page. "Future Little Sisters" I hadn't been underlined or circled, as many of his other scribbles were, it just written alone.

He nibbled at the inside of him lip, it would be controversial, but so far Fontaine hadn't shown himself to hold any moral qualms. As Fontaine had said, there seemed to be an infinite number of candidates for the Big Daddy Programme, Persephone's cells were bursting at the seams, Ryan always finding fault with Rapture's residents. But girl's young enough to be appropriate for the Little Sister ranks... well little girls had a tendency to grow to be big girls... He eyed his note again. Maybe as the current Little Sisters aged and became unable to recycle Adam as effectively... Well... Maybe they would still have their uses...

Suchong smiled darkly, he'd hold back his findings from Fontaine, just for now. If the rumors that Fontaine had been seen having talks with that Gillbert Alexander were true, he was not going to just hand over his hard won research compliantly. And maybe Ryan would have the vision to see the benefits of such _prolific_ work.


	15. Chapter 15

**Legal.** I own nothing and gain no profit.

 **\- Athena's Glory – Humble Residence -**

Gwen tossed and turned in her bed. She'd long since kicked away the clinging bed sheets. She'd tried with the pillow over her face. She's counted sheep. She'd tried everything she could think of.

Her body felt all askew, well that's what she got for essentially snoozing for a week. She chuckled bitterly.

And then there was the light, apparently London and New York weren't the only cities that never slept.

She groaned, rolling onto her stomach for what felt like the fiftieth time, pressing her face deep into the welcoming darkness of the pillow, until she had to gasp for air.

The light wasn't even all filtering in through the window, the yellow glow from the corner of the room was driving her mad too.

Milk, hot milk that was a tried and tested method to get to sleep wasn't it. Right that was what she was going to do – and if that didn't work, she'd take a leaf out of her Aunt's book and gulp down vodka until she passed out.

She swung her bare feet to the flooring, massaging her toes into the carpet before pushing up from the mattress. Out of habit she reached for her dressing gown, but why did she need it? She'd gone to bed in her clothes – the thought of changing with Psi in the room had made her uncomfortable and so far she hadn't had the bottle to broach asking him to leave the room.

She twisted the door handle. She frowned. She twisted again. Deliberately slowly she knelt and peeked in to the gap between the door and it's frame, swallowing back the mounting panic.

Hastily she rocked back on her heels, trying to breathe.

 ** _Gwendolyn?_**

Locked. Charles had locked her in the room. Her Uncle had locked her in like some wild mad woman in an asylum. God she wanted to throw up.

Psi moved behind her, presumably sensing her distress. She didn't pull away when the tree trunks he called arms wrapped around her, instead she turned awkwardly in his embrace, pressing her face into the soft canvas covering his chest and sobbed.

He let her weep, pulling her tight against him.

How strange, a part of her brain unconsumed by misery thought, just earlier today I feared this man. I flinched at his touch, I wanted to run as far and as fast as I could away from him... And now... Now I cling to him... Think of him as an ally...She thought about pulling away, thought about flinging herself to the other side of the room... But in his arms she felt almost... Safe.

 ** _You wish to leave the room?_**

"I-" _Yes_ , yes she wanted to leave. But the intelligent part of her kicked in before the words left her lips. "No... No I don't need to leave. Not yet." Psi would simply break down the door if she asked him to. And that would just confirm Charles's fears and... She didn't really know what either of them would do then... But if it came down to it; Psi could easily hurt her family, even if he didn't mean to do it, and she didn't think she could live with herself if that happened.

No, she had to think, calmly and rationally. Like the Gwen she'd been on the surface, not the nervy, jumpy Gwen she'd so far been in Rapture.

She's have to leave. That was what Charles had meant about living arrangements. And she couldn't put her family in harm's way. They'd leave, her and Psi – on Gwen's terms. She swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth at the thought of her Aunt and Uncle telling her to get out.

For one mad moment she imagined going home to Washington, or, even more madly back to the house she'd grown up in, out on the outskirts of London. The cottage built of red brick, and ivy growing up around the door, the jasmine and lavender growing in the garden. The old grandfather clock standing proud in the front hall...

And then she remembered the colossus that cradled her in his warm arms, he'd never blend in back in Surrey, he'd never blend in on the surface. He didn't even blend in here in Rapture.

She sighed, resting her forehead against his chest again. What was she going to do? What was she going to...?


	16. Chapter 16

**Legal.** I own nothing, and gain no profit.

 **-Mercury Suites – Fontaine's Penthouse -**

Fontaine stood, looking out at the city that would be his. Glorious. Simply glorious.

He grinned, he loved this city, and it was perfect for him. From its grimy underbelly to the gleaming gold veneer of its elite.

He'd climbed his way to the big boys table, and now he stamped at the clutching fingers of those who were scrambling to join him. But still Fontaine only had eyes for the golden throne Ryan presided from. He could already imagine lounging upon those silken cushions.

He thought about the way Humble had looked when he'd led his beloved niece, and… her new pet, from his building. The bastard had been one of those who had strived to take a seat at Ryan's side. And today, his skin was ashen, he had dark circles under his eyes, Fontaine smiled, Charles Humble was a man with too much money, and too little understanding of the real dog-eat-dog world of business. And by Fontaine's reckoning he wasn't going to be a problem for very much longer. Humble was a family man, and that had given him a _very_ prominent soft spot. And Fontaine had no qualms about exploiting those delicious vulnerabilities.

"Frankie baby?" The breathy baby doll voice called to him from the vast bed.

"Hmmm?" He didn't turn around to her.

"Come back to bed baby." He could picture the pouted lips, the soft hand with long pink finger nails patting the overstuffed silk pillow beside her.

A muscle in his jaw ticked and his lip curled in disdain. What right did the bimbo have to ask anything of him? He turned, frown creasing his brow, but he stopped himself when he looked at her.

Typical doxy. Too stupid to be any sort of threat. Looks that Steinman had granted her, eyes to big and doe-ey, nose too slim and pointed, mouth too full and pouty. He could even see the fading bruise in the crook of her arm from some plasmid or other.

He knew her type, she'd made the journey to Rapture with plans. She was going to be an actress, she was going to star, and she was going to snag a rich husband. But all she really _was_ , was just some girl who shook her, Fontaine looked down along her long curvaceous body, _sweet_ ass on the Eve's Garden stage for dollar bills, then fell into some rich punter's bed, hoping he'd loose his head over her too perfect to be genuine body and lift her out of the gutter she had crawled into.

Too bad. Fontaine ran his tongue over his teeth and let a dark smile creep to his lips, eyeing her pale, soft, succulent naked body. She'd fallen into _his_ bed. And he wasn't the type to play savior.

He strode back towards the bed, leaving his plotting for another time and smiled as he pulled the girl towards him, her legs either side of his hips.


	17. Chapter 17

**Legal** I own nothing, and gain no profit.

 **\- Athena's Glory – Humble Residence -**

Gwen started awake, unsure what had woken her. She blinked away sleep, stretching and uncurling, her muscles and joints stiff from her unusual sleeping position.

"Oh!" She blinked up at the brass helmet of Subject Psi. "Um... Morning?" She mumbled, blearily rubbing at her eyes. She had fallen asleep in his arms it seemed.

Psi fingered the ends of her hair with a hand the size of a dustbin lid.

 ** _My Gwendolyn._**

He was purring.

She didn't pull away from his embrace immediately, watching his fingers in her mess of blonde curls. And just for a moment it was as though she was a child again, back in England, her mother braiding her hair.

It made her feel calm, safe... and it had been so very long since she had felt at peace. It hadn't been since she'd been home in London, where there was time and space and she could _breathe_. America had just been at such a _pace_ everyone on the go, busy busy busy, constantly; as though they thought they might miss out on something if they deigned to slow down. In America everything had been too fast, too loud and far too big.

Talking of loud, Gwen looked up at the locked door, Psi still playing with her hair, she could hear shouting in the apartment.

"But _why_ can't I see her?!" Mary, Gwen sighed, considering just closing her eyes, leaning into Psi's touch and just blocking the rest of the world out.

"She's... she's convalescing. She needs time to – to process what's happened. To-to come to terms with-with such a _traumatic assault._ " Vivian shouted back at her daughter, by the sound of her slurring voice she was already three sheets to the wind.

They were obviously talking about her, she puffed out her cheeks sighing, was she really considering finding a way out of her 'bedroom' slash prison cell to go confront them? Urgh, she was.

Gently she extricated Psi's fingers from her now tangled hair, she smiled up at him as she stood up. Right, first, she should change her clothes, that seemed a sensible course of action, and, more importantly, it would give her time to work out how to achieve her second objective: how to exit the room without leaving a Subject Psi sized hole where the door used to be.

"Watch the door for me, would you?" She told Psi lugging her suitcase onto the mattress of the bed.

 ** _The door is locked, nothing can pass through it._**

Gwen's hands hesitated as she riffled through the suitcases contents. "With a key someone could."

 ** _There is a loose floor board in the corridor to this room, fifteen foot from the door. I will be ready for any threat long before it reaches this room._**

She bit her lip, trying to hide the beginning of a smile, it quite entertained her that he'd considered the issue in such depth. "Ah, but what happens if this phantom assailant has noted this loose floor board. And what happens if said phantom assailant has avoided that floor board, and is creeping up to the door, even as we speak...?" She suggested flippantly, casting a cheeky glance over her shoulder at him.

 ** _I shall not allow_** **any threat** ** _through that door._**

She turned back to the task at hand, continuing to riffle through the suit case, actually having to bite her bottom lip to disguise her grin. "Watch the window then."

 ** _This is the fifth floor. The window is not probable access for any threat._**

"Well I think a fifth floor window would be a perfect place to attack from." She wheeled around to Psi, grinning, her hands on her hips. "Just because it's such an inconceivable idea!" She grabbed her chosen dress from the suitcase, looking it over with a critical eye.

 ** _I am glad most attackers do not think like you._**

She held the dress up against herself and twirled around, watching the full skirt swirl around her legs. Psi watched her as she danced around the room.

 ** _You will look very pretty wearing that._**

Gwen grinned up at him. What girl could resist a compliment? Even when that compliment came from a giant man monster thing. "Now, go on you. Watch out the window for me."

 ** _But no threat can -_**

She shushed him. "We'll need to work on your understanding of euphemism and reading between the lines. I was asking you to look away, so that I can change." She told him softly.

 ** _Oh..._**

From the way Psi shuffled across to the window, Gwen was pretty certain, that under the helmet he was blushing.

She dressed quickly, intimately aware of Psi's presence. She was all fingers and thumbs as she fumbled to button up the front of the dress. Fluffing her hair into some semblance of order, the best she could achieve without a mirror to hand. Good enough, she decided, stuffing everything back into the suitcase.

"You can turn around now, I'm decent. How do I look?"

He turned and looked her up and down. He was silent a long time.

"So...? What do you think?"

He was quiet a while longer.

 ** _You look beautiful._**

Gwen felt her cheeks flush hotly. "Thank you." She mumbled, suddenly feeling very self-conscious and shy, avoiding looking up at him.

Quickly she snatched up her set of bobby pins and kneeling before the door, looking closely at the lock before her. How hard could it be? Nancy Drew pickled locks left, right and center. She peered intently into the locks inner workings. Refusing to concede that she had no clue what she was doing, she straightened her shoulders and picked up two of the bobby pins.


	18. Chapter 18

**\- Olympus Heights – Central Square Bistro -**

Charles Humble sat hunched, searching for insight from the depths of the untouched mug of coffee before him.

He didn't like all this. Didn't like it one bit. He was careful, cautious, he planned meticulously, down to the minute details. He was a man who was always three moves ahead, maneuvering any situation to its most fortuitous endgame. With him always playing to win.

But he had been outplayed, sidestepped. His position compromised. And now Gwendolyn, his baby sister's little girl had been hurt, and it was because of him.

He should never have allowed himself to be talked into signing her up for that damnable Protector Programme. Damn Fontaine and, he closed his eyes and sighed sadly, and damn me.

He didn't like this feeling, this bitter knife in the guts of guilt and shame. And the key to the poor child's room burned a hole from his breast pocket right through to his heart.

And he'd locked her in with that – that brute. Oh God. What had he done?! He'd excused his actions, only half believing in his own reasoning. He had to protect Vivian and Mary, _had_ to. And himself, the knife in his gut twisted that little bit deeper. He'd protected himself, but not little Gwenny, not his niece.

He swallowed back a sudden surge of bile in his throat. And what if that monster had – had forced himself upon her. The thought was too repellent. Blast it all. His head dropped into his hands. Good Lord. What had he done?!

A mournful groan made him look up sharply, his entire body tensing, a shiver running the length of his spine. Charles stared out the window at the horrific metal monstrosity that plodded easily through a crowd that parted like the Red Sea at its approach. Before the beastly thing skipped a child, a little girl, she couldn't have been more than five or six. Charles sucked in a shaky breath, watching the child with a mix of fascination and terror. Dark plaits framed her waxy pale face, her smile radiant at she gazed up at her "Daddy" and, good God, Charles's mouth went dry, her innocently wide eyes glowed with an eerie light.

Of course Charles had seen these 'Little Sisters' before, seen them dancing through the streets of Rapture. He had even watched their great metal protectors as they lumbered behind their charges. Sometimes considering how useful they must be for heavy lifting and manual labour. But he'd never studied them that hard, glazing over this more unpalatable side of Rapture from his pedestal of privilege. These unsavory beings merely cogs in the machine of the city.

But Gwen wasn't a cog. She should have been protected by the umbrella of wealth. Well... In some twisted way she might be better protected now. Charles felt sick at the thought.

With shaky fingers Charles cradled the coffee mug and brought it up to his mouth. He winced and fought the urge to spit out what passed his lips. He swallowed thickly, replacing the mug on the table. The coffee in it was stone cold.

He looked back down into the murk of the swirling liquid. Resuming his pursuit of enlightenment and redemption.


	19. Chapter 19

**\- Athena's Glory – Humble residence -**

Gwen glared at the door. It was still very much locked. And it was infuriating.

Psi watched her silently, ever the silent sentinel.

Through gritted teeth she let out a long breath, picking yet another pin from her hair, a thick strand of which flopped down in front of her eyes, she puffed it away in frustration. On the carpet before her lay tens of pins broken and buckled in a small bobby pin graveyard.

Within the lock she twisted and wiggled the pin.

It was going to break, just like all the rest had, she knew it. It was not going to work and she'd end up kicking the door open – she would break open the damnable door with her fanciest pair of stilettos and _then_ she'd –

Click.

Gwen gawped open mouthed at the door as it swung open on its hinges.

It was open. She'd picked the lock. She'd done it! She grinned up at Psi, frustration, turmoil that was her hair and all thoughts of breaking a silly door with her favorite shoes all forgotten. She felt like dancing the lumbering metal man around the small room. She was victorious! She had bested her foe! Maybe she would have the lock mounted so she could display it over a mantelpiece.

 ** _You opened the door._**

"Yes, yes I did." She pushed herself up on stiff legs, brushing aside the small graveyard of ruined hair pins with the toe of her shoe. Smile firmly plastered across her lips.

 ** _I could have opened it much sooner._**

"Maybe." She picked up her suitcase. "But that just wouldn't have provided me with quite the same sense of achievement." She shook out the snarled nest that was her hair and, holding her head high, she strode purposefully over the threshold and down the corridor.

 ** _Taking a long time on a simple task makes you happy?_**

Gwen peeked around the first corner she came to, not entirely sure what to expect; maybe Charles sitting with a cocked shotgun resting across his lap. "I refuse to let your cynicism lower my good mood." She told him playfully, moving onwards through the empty corridor.

She came up short as the narrow hallway opened up into the large main family living room. Mary was sitting, just a few feet away, her back to where her cousin and her new pet hid. Gwen waved Psi backward and carefully tiptoed after him.

When they were far enough away that Gwen was fairly sure the girl wouldn't hear them, she turned on the giant.

"Mary is _not_ a threat." She told him, her voice low and serious. "If you hurt her, or scare her, or even _upset_ her. I will _never_ forgive you. Do you understand?"

 ** _I understand. Mary is not a threat._**

"Okay, right." She nodded, psyching herself up. "Let's go introduce you to Mary."

"I think I could be a threat if I wanted to." Gwen squeaked, spinning on her heel.

Mary was smiling up at her, the usual impish twinkle in her eye. "I could be threatening if I _really_ wanted to." She went on as though she hadn't just given her cousin a minor heart attack. She bared her teeth and clawed her hands "Grrr" ing at Gwen with laughter in her eyes. "You're just lucky I like you, or I could be _really_ threatening."

Gwen blinked - momentarily trying to work out when she had fallen down the hole into wonderland – how was Mary, an, up to now, fairly average twelve year old, who, other than a wicked sense of humor, tended to act in a generally predictably _normal_ way, how was she calm?! How was she not screaming and cowering in a corner when confronted with a seven foot tall man monster thing wearing a diving suit?!

"Mary Humble. " the girl extended a hand to Psi, Gwen couldn't work out if she should faint away or burst into hysterical giggles, the sight of Mary shaking hand with Psi was simply so farcical, so surreal. But there they were, Psi nearly bent double, Mary's hand like that of an infant's in comparison with Psi's dustbin sized one. "This – this is Psi."

"A pleasure to meet you." Mary told him cheerily, no flicker of fear in her gaze up at him, as though the veritable giant was simply another of her father's business colleges.

"I take it," Mary turned to face Gwen, "he is the reason mother has passed out in her room with a bottle of whiskey?"

"I – we – er…yes. Yes quite probably."

If Aunt Vivian had resorted to whiskey that was a bad sign, she hated the fiery amber spirit, and only was ever brought to drink from Charles's finely aged favorite tipple when she had finished all other alcoholic beverages in the house and, probably as a direct result, was unfit to procure herself more.

"See, if mother had just _said_ you were with your new _beau_ I wouldn't have made such a fuss about seeing you when you got home." She shrugged with a coy smile and turned walking back to the living room.

"I – wait – no he's – he's not my _beau_! Mary!" Gwen followed forlornly after the girl.

 ** _What is a beau?_**

"I –"She looked weakly between her cousin's receding back and Psi. "I'll tell you later." She sighed and followed Mary.


	20. Chapter 20

**\- Athena's Glory -**

Charles climbed the stairs, his tread heavy, like that of a condemned man. He hadn't come to decision about how he was going to proceed. But he couldn't hide away any longer. Couldn't abandon his wife and daughter with that – that _thing._

He found himself at the door to his home much soon than he would have liked, not that it felt like a home right at that moment. He didn't want to enter. Didn't want to face what lay behind the wooden front door. Didn't want to argue with Vivian, or worse, didn't want to face a Vivian in an alcohol induced catatonic state. Didn't want to dodge Mary and her curious questions. Didn't want to face the melancholy that had enveloped his niece. And most definitely didn't want to face the beast that could crush his bones to powder with less than the effort needed to swat an irritating fly.

Charles looked at the brass door handle. He'd never thought of himself as a coward. Never thought that fear would be able to wrap its cold claws around his heart. Never considered that dread might seep into his bones at the mere thought of stepping through a door. But it was only now, confronted with the knowledge that his was the final barrier between himself and all the horrors he would have to face, that he finally recognized it within himself.

He was terrified.

In a single movement, before his nerve completely abandoned him, he twisted the handle and stumbled through the doorway. A desperate move for a man that prized his composure.

Charles stilled at the sight in the room before him.

Mary was sitting on the couch, hair brush in hand, and Gwen was sitting on the floor in front of her, blonde tresses delicately falling from the teeth of the brush. And behind them. Standing over them. Was the metal monstrosity.

There was a strangled scream, and it took a heartbeat for him to realize the sound had emanated from his own mouth.

"Hello Daddy." Mary smiled up at him. She was the picture of innocence, her long dark hair pulled back with a ribbon, her full navy skirt falling lightly over her shins, her fresh white blouse tucked into the high waist band, a compromise between the childish girly frills and the finely tailored swirling skirts of the older girls.

Gwen was gasping, standing, some part of him recognized she was speaking, talking to him, but he was already moving, running. Enveloping Mary up in his arms and dragging her away. "Keep away from her!" His voice didn't sound like his own. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins.

" _Really_ Daddy. It's not like you to be rude to a guest." Mary harrumphed.

Charles wasn't listening. His full attention was focused on the man in the diving suit. It hadn't moved, but he'd seen that thing move through the Fontaine Futuristics entrance hall, it had moved as fast as a steam train and could do as much damage.

"Uncle Charles, he won't hurt you. Or Mary. Or Aunt Vivian." Gwen was telling him, her voice soft, her hands up before her, palms open in the universal promise of 'no harm'. She sounded like she was trying to calm a wild, unpredictable animal. "He _understands_ that you're not a threat now."

Charles kept dragging his daughter backwards, away from – from that _thing_. He had to protect her, it was all he could focus on. Protect Mary. And every molecule in his body was screaming at him to get her away from danger.

He could see the hurt in Gwen's eyes, how her distress stemmed from his actions.

But she would forgive him given time. She would understand.


	21. Chapter 21

**\- Athena's Glory – Humble Residence -**

Gwen could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes and the thick lump in her throat rise as she watched her uncle back away.

"Psi…" She bit her tongue, hating the waiver in her voice. "We have to go." The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

Fighting the tears that were brimming at the corners of her eyes, she seized up the suitcase and half sprinted for the door of the apartment, Psi following obediently in her wake.

She took the stairs down as fast as she could, skipping and tripping in her high heels; if it hadn't been for the hand rail she might had pitched head first down them.

As she stumbled down onto the second floor landing her wrist was snagged and she was pulled around into the open arms of her metal guardian.

 ** _Breathe._**

It was that that sent her over the edge. The great heaving sobs wracked through her. She pressed her face into the canvas chest, all semblance of composure tossed to the wind.

She'd known she was going to leave – had planned for it. She'd known she couldn't stay. But when she'd sat, talking and laughing with Mary, a small ember of hope had fizzled into life. Maybe Charles would wrap his arms around her and tell her not to be silly, of course she could stay. They would just have to work out where Psi would sleep. And Vivian would walk out of her room, as polished and refined as she was for a cocktail party, and they would all skip off into the sunset laughing and smiling, with pigs flying around them.

But she'd seen his fear, had seen that almost imperceptible sigh of relief as she had dashed from his home. And it had broken her heart.

Oh God what was she going to do? Where could they go? She needed to think. But if she thought, she'd end up crying again. And to prove herself right another wave of tears flooded her.

 ** _You're safe._**

Psi squeezed her gently within his embrace.

 ** _I will keep you safe._**

"I know." She mumbled quietly into his chest. She took a long, slow steadying breath, the smell of the canvas filled her nose. In the darkness of her closed eyes for just a second she could imagine she was standing in the old canvas tent, the one her father had stored in the shed at the bottom of their garden, the one she had gone camping in when she was very little, so long ago back in England. She smiled at the memory.

She could do this, she decided. She could work all this out. She'd just need a little time, and to stay calm. She could do that. Baby steps. One foot in front of another.

She looked up at the porthole in the heavy diving helmet.

 ** _Better?_**

A long beat passed before she nodded, once, decisively. Another moment passed between them before he actually released her. She wished in that moment that she could see his face, could read the emotion there, and could see his eyes, could reach up and…and touch his cheek. She lifted her hand without thinking to do it… But then the moment was gone, her hand dropped back to her side and she stepped away. Shakily she licked her lips as the haze that had engulfed her dissipated.

"Right…well…" She licked her lips again, trying to put her thoughts into some semblance of order. "We – we need to find somewhere to stay." She said finally. "Know anywhere?" She asked her hulking companion.

 ** _I do._**

Gwen blinked in surprise, she had asked more out of politeness than in actual expectation.

"Well then, lead on." Her eyes were puffy from crying, her hair had acquired a life of its own and she was currently homeless, but just then her situation didn't quite seem so bleak. A smile even dared to play across her lips.

 ** _We need to find a Little Sister._**

Gwen hefted up her suitcase, continuing down the staircase at a more sedate pace, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Psi. "What's a Little Sister?"

 ** _A younger version of you._**


	22. Chapter 22

**Legal.** I own nothing, blah blah blah.

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Dr. Suchong's Office -**

Suchong leant forward in his chair. He'd been there all night, catching a few hours of fitful sleep hunched uncomfortably in the straight backed office chair – there were times that he wished he had been a physiatrist with a long comfortable couch to lie back on. But such thoughts were fleeting, physiatrists were not remembered, they did not discover, they were mere pseudo scientists, pretending their childish theories on how the brain worked was writ. He would laugh in the face of any man that tried to suggest it was some Oedipus-ic desire for his mother's approval that had made him strive to become such a prolific scientific mind. His mother had been just another backstreet whore, giggling as she brought home some nameless faceless ' _samchon' [uncle]_ , she had been just another addict to the poppy's black gold, the very same foul concoction that had both funded his early experiments and yielded many a test subject.

He pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tight closed, before replacing his glasses with a sigh. This data might have been hard won but it was without comparison. This Subject Psi was easily one of his finest pieces of work yet. The Alpha Series was notoriously unreliable, the stability of its 'participants' after being processed being one of the most notable of the many defects.

But this Subject Psi… Suchong flipped through the pages of notes relating to the Subject's previous life, giving the black and white photograph of a young man little more than a cursory glance, he studied the psychological exam, looking over the brain scans. He frowned, nothing struck him as remarkable in the file. He stuffed the papers back into their manila cover and dropped the whole lot of them on the desk. He chewed at his finger, glaring at the screen. How, when all the other Big Daddies did little more than follow their charges and protect against potential dangers, did _this_ Big Daddy seem to retain more of his humanity? Psi had been processed in just the same way as the others, so why was he different.

Maybe it was the girl?

Maybe it was…

He sighed. Even the great Yi Suchong couldn't function at his highest when he hadn't slept. He rubbed at his eyes again rolling his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the bunched muscles. Just another hour or two, then he'd sleep properly. Just another hour or two…He had other experiments to see to as well of course… Just _one_ more hour… An hour and a half – tops.

Korean translation from google translate.


	23. Chapter 23

Usual legal stuff - don't own. Done for love not profit

 **\- Fontaine Futuristics – Frank Fontaine's Office -**

"Get out!"

The office came alive as all in it scattered, bottlenecking at the mahogany double doors, bickering and fighting to flee the dangerously electric atmosphere of the office.

Fontaine ground his teeth, his palm tingling from where he'd slammed it on the desk top, and he curled his fingers into a tight fist. He wanted to hit something. Wanted to pound it until his knuckles were broken and bleeding and he wanted to _keep_ hitting it until it stopped moving… and screaming.

Why was it never good news? Why was it never "Ryan's kicked the bucket – here's the key to your city. May I have the honor of kissing your feet my Lord?" No. Ryan _always_ had to get in his way. If he wasn't confiscating his imports, admittedly they weren't exactly of _sanctioned_ items, he was sending that goon of his, Sullivan, to intimidate his men.

Fontaine's lip curled in disgust, this time his spies close to Ryan had caught whispers that he was planning to tighten the noose, raids on the submersible fishing fleet as they came in as well as at the fisheries warehouses. And if the raids didn't produce enough evidence to shut him down legitimately… Sullivan was to come straight to the top. Fontaine himself would be for the chopping block. Evidence or no be damned.

A vein was ticking in his temple and sat down heavily in the wide leather chair. His nostrils flared taking in a long breath before leaning forward, steepleing his fingers in front of his mouth. He cast a long gaze around the empty office. The finely wood paneled walls, the rugs that had cost enough he might have fed a small country for an entire year if he had been so inclined, the shelves filled with leather bound first editions, the great oil painting of Fontaine with his fictitious wife and child who had _oh so_ terribly died in a car accident on the surface. Any who entered the room might quite simply describe it as the office of a great man, a _wealthy_ man.

He knew what had to be done.

Didn't mean he liked it though.

He had enjoyed being Frank Fontaine. Enjoyed the gravitas that the name had accumulated in his time as a resident of Rapture. Starting out as the fisherman, Fontaine had become a household name; Fontaine Fisheries, Fontaine Department Store, Fontaine Futuristics, Fontaine's was a proper little rags to riches story. But that story was entering its penultimate chapter. The clock was ticking for poor old Frank Fontaine.

Good thing the man who sat behind the vast desk wasn't called Frank Fontaine.

Or, more accurately wouldn't be called Frank Fontaine for very much longer.

It was a shame, a damn shame. It would mean he would lose the fancy penthouse apartment, the companies he had built from the foundations and the shares of those companies that he had accumulated, the fortune and the perks that came from being rich, the fine dining, the parties…the _women._

The man that went by the name Fontaine smiled behind his steepled fingers. A smile that spread into a hunters grin. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Cecelia, could you step in here for a second please?"

The door clicked open and Fontaine schooled his face into a more appropriate deep frown of a troubled man, the woman that stepped in through the doorway was tall, more so with the aid of the blush pink kitten heels she wore, the form fitting charcoal pencil skirt and tailored blouse showed her subtle curves to perfection. "Mr. Fontaine?" Her carefully kohl lined brown eyes were magnified behind her thick framed glasses, her wide mouth painted to match the colour of her shoes set in a worried smile and her hair had been pulled back into a severe pony tail. Fontaine had, on more than one occasion imagined himself pulling her head back by that pony tail…A beautiful woman, if in a bookish way.

"Cecelia honey, looks like we're gonna have some trouble here soon. I just wanted to warn you, I'll probably need you to work late tonight."

"Oh, of course Mr. Fontaine, that's no problem sir." She flashed a smile that wouldn't be out of place on a majorette. "You need anything else Mr. Fontaine?"

Fontaine shook his head no, she was almost out the door when he called to her. "Oh Cecelia." She looked back at him, hand on the door handle, Fontaine's glace took in the gold band with the small diamond on her left ring finger. He smiled. "Please. Call me Franky, honey."

Frank Fontaine had made it a rule that the girls' of the men who worked for him were off limits – looking but never touching. But Frank Fontaine was not much longer for this world…and rules were there to be broken.


	24. Chapter 24

Urg. Been having some real trouble with the next couple of chapters. Not writers block - I just don't like them. So I'm just going to try and power through them. So please forgive the icky writing.

Usual legal. Nothing belongs to me.

 **\- Olympus Heights -**

Gwen looked down at the little girl, the Little Sister, she corrected herself. The girl was so very young, and so small compared to the Big Daddy she held the immense hand of.

The street they stood in was busy, people moving this way and that, but they gave the two mountainous metal men a _wide_ berth.

Slowly, crouched down to the girl's level, who was shyly peaking around from behind the tree trunk of a leg of her Daddy. Gwen hoped to God that this new diving suited protector wouldn't consider her a danger to the girl. Mindful of how Psi's hackles rose when others came close, she'd kept her distance from the pair, but she didn't really know what to expect. Should she be ready to run at any second or was she safe to approach the girl?

"Hello." Gwen smiled at the child hesitantly. "My name's Gwen, and this is Psi." She saw the girl take a quick glance up at Psi before focusing again on Gwen. "Psi told me, that you might be able to help me…"

Nervously her gaze flicked up to the yellow light in the girl's companions helmet, so far it hadn't flickered red, but it was most certainly not green either. Gwen licked her lips, her eyes dropping to his hand were he carried a rivet gun, his finger carefully resting on the trigger.

The girl poked her head a little further out from the safety of the leg of the Daddy, and the breath caught in Gwen's throat. Her eyes! Oh God her eyes were _glowing!_

"Psi – he told me that…" She swallowed biting her bottom lip. "That you might know somewhere that's safe…"

The Little Sister watched Gwen for a long moment with her large glowing eyes, before looking up at the man she clutched the hand of.

"What do you think Mr. Bubbles?"

M - Mr. Bubbles…Gwen took a quick glance up again at the not-so-gentle-looking giant. Mr. Bubbles. Yeah, she guessed she could see the name fitting…

Mr. Bubbles gave a low moan, and the girl watched him intently. Gwen was suddenly struck, was this how she must look while Psi was talking inside her head?

Suddenly the girl beamed and skipped out of her hiding spot. "Mr. Bubbles says you're a friend." She said, taking Gwen's hand in her own and leading the older girl off down a side street, Psi and Mr. Bubbles following diligently behind.

"Mr. Bubbles says we should take you to our special place." Gwen was trying to remember the twists and turns down the little back alleys while the girl continued on chattily. "We can't take you through the tunnels because you're too _big_!" She giggled in that sweet sing-song little girl voice. Right passed the cracked shipping crate, left after that, then the second right. "It's where _all_ Little Sisters are safe." The girl was saying. "However big they are."

"But I'm not a-" Damnit was that last turn a left or a right? Gwen cursed herself mentally. And preyed she'd be able to make her way back out of this labyrinth of narrow streets.

On and on the Little Sister led her, deeper into the bowels of this alien city. From darkened doorways their unusual procession was observed by unseen eyes, the scrutiny sent uncomfortable shivers up and down her spine, something about it… seemed hungry. Predator observing prey.

Gwen glanced down at the Little Sister, oblivious as any young child should be to any threat. She checked behind, Psi and Mr. Bubbles pounded along, following their charges. She licked her lips and trying to think up a way to signal subtly.

 ** _We know._**

Gwen swallowed hard. Well that didn't sound ominous at all…

She really didn't like this, in every shadow she imagined she saw figures watching and waiting.

Before her the Little Sister stumbled to a standstill looking bemusedly at a wall of crates that blocked their progress. Trapped. Gwen span on the spot, drawing the girl against her. Every instinct telling her to just swing the child up onto her back and run for all that she was worth back to the main street with its open spaces and bright street lights. Mirroring her tension Psi ripped a plank from the nearest crate with one hand, and Mr. Bubbles readied and cocked his rivet gun.

"Well lookee' here whats we's got." They had spread themselves across the open mouth of the narrow side street, ten of them, the apparent spokesman standing in the center. They each carried at least one weapon the Gwen could see and wore far too pleased with themselves grins. "Now just gives us the girly and we can all be on our way, quiet as ya' please." Gwen pulled the girl tighter against her, and if anything the smiles of the men grew. "Naw, looks like baby doll here don't wanna share all that sweet sweet Adam wi' us fellas."

"Maybes wes should teaches her hows to share…" Another of the men eyed her lustfully, making a show of looking her up and down, he grinned a rotten blackened gap toothed mouth. A weeks' worth of salt and pepper stubble grew along the line of his jaw. And his clothes were tatty and mud caked. The very sight of him turned Gwen's stomach.

Focus. _Focus._ She needed to find a way out of this. Needed to…to…

They're too calm.

It was the deep dark animal part of her brain talking to her. The part of her brain that remembered that sabre tooth tigers were not good to keep as pets, that knew in times of great stress you could either run, or fight for your life.

Numbers were on their side, but, she quickly ran an eye along their ranks, they had crude weapons. Billy clubs and coshes. Faced by two mountainous men, they should be quaking in their boots.

But they weren't. They were confident enough to be boasting and taunting.

"Come ons girly." Another of the men grabbed his crotch suggestively. "You knows you'd enjoy it."

Psi growled low, taking a threatening pounding step towards the man.

Gwen carefully shuffled sideways to the brick wall of the alleyway, bringing the Little Sister with her till she was able to back the child into the corner made by the wall and the crates.

What were they up to? Why weren't they afraid?

She studied the wall of wooden boxes that had barred their path out the corner of her eye. Something about it seemed…off. Here and there it looked like cross braces had been broken off. Subtly she shifted closer to the nearest box and nudged it with her foot. It moved.

Ok. So large wall of empty crates that by the looks of them had been purposely weakened. So a trap. It was a trap. They were being flanked and the men across the mouth of the alleyway were there as a distraction.

"Psi?" She kept her voice low. He kept his gaze towards the men, but he shifted his weight closer to her. "They're-" She was cut off by a strange whirring noise. The men that barred their way scattered as the noise grew in volume.

"Down!" Gwen dropped to the ground, pulling her small charge down with her as the wall of crates exploded outward in a hail of bullets and splinters.


	25. Chapter 25

Well. That was harder/took longer than expected... This is another chapter that has most certainly a buggar to write. As such it hadn't been redrafted or overly checked for spelling/grammar and stuff - hopefully it's forgivable.

I just also want to quickly say thank you to the people who have been kind enough to take the time to review / favorite this story - after having it ticking away in the background for _years_ because I didn't have the confidence to actually upload it, well, finding out people actually like it makes me smile... and look sideways at some of the other scraps I've written and think...

And, of course usual legal. I own nothing and gain no profit.

 **-Olympus Heights – Back Alleyway -**

Gatling gun, Gwen thought, they've got a Gatling gun, and we've got. She took stock of the comparatively meager weaponry they had at their disposal. Mr. Bubbles had his rivet gun, Psi had a club he had ripped off of the crate, she had a suitcase and a vicious pair of high heels and the Little Sister had…pig tails and a dress. Gwen considered these and decided to slip off her shoes to be ready to run.

"How far is your safe place?" She'd covered the child with her own body when they'd dropped; their faces practically nose to nose and still she had to shout over the noise of the bullets hitting brick and wood to be heard.

The girl looked up at her, confusion written across her features. "Not far."

Her ears were ringing so much with the chatter-chatter-chatter of the machine gun that it took a few seconds for her to realize that the sound had stopped.

She took the chance to glance up. Brick dust hung heavily in the air along with the scent of cordite. Figures were moving through the gap where the gun had rendered the crates down to splinters. Psi and Mr. Bubbles were standing shoulder to shoulder, Mr. Bubbles already taking aim at their new adversaries.

Gwen jumped to her feet, pushing the girl further into a corner behind her. She cast her gaze across the devastation left in the wake of the gun. A weapon, that was what she needed, something to defend herself, something to- She snatched up a plank from one of the broken crates and tested its weight in her hands. It was heavy enough to do some damage. She swung it experimentally and it made quite a satisfactory swoosh.

"Well lookee' what I's found." The voice was close, and she swung before she had time to think about what she was doing. The squishy thunk and accompanying masculine grunt confirmed she'd clocked him. He slumped to the ground, but there was more movement, people coming towards her and she hefted her club like a hitter in baseball ready for the next incomer.

There was roaring and screaming and movement everywhere.

She swung again. And again. And again. Half the time she only knew she'd actually hit something was the shockwave that ran up her arms, she couldn't think about the type of damage she'd actually inflicted. Couldn't think about the horror of the situation she was in. Focus! She screamed at herself. Got to focus! Here. Now. Survive. Protect. They're the only things that matter. It doesn't matter whose husband or brother or father you're cracking over the head with a splintered bit of wood – he's trying to hurt me – he's lost the right to be considered as a human being right now.

She struck out again meeting her target. But this time the splintered club she wielded stuck. She pulled. It didn't come free.

There was a man, he was coming towards her. He was smiling. She tugged and wiggled and strained at the board. She could feel the splinters digging themselves deep into the skin of her hands, but the damn thing still wouldn't come free. He was upon her, and she was defenceless. His hand closed around her throat, squeezing, cutting off her air; he pushed her roughly against the brick wall behind her, holding her there. He was speaking to her. Saying words she couldn't hear over the rush of blood in her ears. But she could feel the warm fetid breath as it caressed her cheek. His knee was pressing at her legs, forcing them to part. "No." It was a breathy whisper that passed her lips, he pressed closer to her. She could feel him, all of him, as his body crushed against her. He got his knee between her legs at the same time that his vile mouth covered her own, mashing her tightly closed lips against her teeth.

She shoved at him with all her might – he didn't even shift backwards. She felt him chuckle in the back of his throat.

Something changed in her then. Something twisted and snapped. He laughed at her. He shouldn't have done that. The bastard laughed at her! The fear curdled in her gut to cold rage. He would pay for laughing at her. For underestimating her.

Her eyes narrowed, the edges of her vision bleeding red. Ignoring the bastard's pawing hands she focused on reaching down. She needed a weapon. Something strong. Something with some weight to it. Something that would be able to crack his vile little skull as easily as the shell of an egg.

Her fingers reached for what was left of the crates, searching, searching, when her fingertip brushed against something cold, metallic. Millimetre by millimetre she worked it into the palm of her hand. She gripped the object; and swung.

Red filled her vision and a roaring in her ears. Her would-be weapon was ripped from her grasp.

And the man was gone. A fountain of blood where his head had been.

Gwen blinked the warm splatter out of her eyes and gazed up at her own personal sentinel of death.

 ** _I will protect you._**

"I can protect myself!"

She wasn't an infant! Wasn't small and pathetic! If he hadn't taken her club she'd have proved she could have saved herself! But no. He'd ' _protected'_ her. What was the difference between a man laughing at her weakness – and a man that didn't give her the chance to prove the buggar wrong?! Was there any difference?!

 ** _I will protect you, from yourself if needed._**

She opened her mouth to snap back at him, eyes sharp, tongue sharper. But the rage that had erupted within her was dissipating. Her mouth closed, gritting her teeth, it was a battle that could be waged when mortal wounding wasn't a very real risk.

Her eyes dropped to take in the rest of her monstrous protector. His canvas diving suit looked as though he'd bathed in the offal from a slaughter house, chunks of, Gwen didn't want to know what, clung to the coarse fabric. Her pupils dilated when she focused on what he held in his fist.

He wielded the crowbar, which had ever so briefly been her own weapon. Her mouth went dry as her gaze slowly lifted back to the glass in the helmet, searching for some kind of flicker of human-ness there. The head of the bar, designed to pry virtually material apart, that split wood, that twisted metal, that cracked bone. It had been bent completely back on itself.


End file.
